Chapter 1 Fractured Trust – Belle #2
I think about Janet Wilson. How she disappeared, how her body ended up in a shallow grave, how I was made to touch her dead flesh and leave my DNA all over her.
Selena orchestrated that. Selena, who welcomed us back with open arms, who promised sanctuary, who killed Dominic right in front of us to “save” us.
My stomach lurches again, and this time I can’t stop it. I wrench away from Max and barely make it to a nearby trash can before I’m retching, bringing up nothing but bile and fear.
“Jesus, Belle.” Max holds my hair back, his other hand steady on my shoulder. When I’m done, when I’m just dry-heaving and gasping, he helps me sit on the floor, back against the wall. He crouches in front of me, producing a water bottle from his bag. “Small sips.”
The water helps. So does having something to focus on—the sensation of cold liquid, the sound of Max’s breathing, the solidity of the wall behind me. I count the floor tiles, the stones in the corridor, anything to anchor myself to reality.
“We need to get off this island,” I finally say.
“I know.”
“No, Max, you don’t understand.” I grab his hands, squeezing hard enough to hurt. “Selena Harpsons is The Architect.”
He goes very still. “What?”
“I remembered. In class, I remembered—Janet Wilson’s murder. Selena was there. She was the one giving orders, telling them to frame me. She’s not just part of the network, Max. She is the network. And we’re trapped here with her.”
To his credit, he doesn’t immediately dismiss it as paranoia or trauma-induced delusion. He just processes, his jaw working, his eyes distant as he thinks through implications.
“Are you sure?” he finally asks.
“I saw her face. I heard her voice. I remember it clearly now—more clearly than anything else from that night.” My nails dig into his palms. “And there’s something else.
I think she drugged me this morning. I think she’s been drugging all of us, keeping us compliant, making sure we don’t remember too much or ask too many questions. ”
“Fuck.” Max runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, making it stand up at odd angles. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, we need to think about this logically. If you’re right—”
“I am.”
“—then we need to be extremely careful about how we proceed. We can’t just accuse the most powerful woman on this island of being a serial killer and criminal mastermind without evidence that will actually hold up.
Especially when we’re…” He trails off, but I know what he’s thinking.
Especially when we’re the children of criminals ourselves, tainted by association, already under suspicion.
“Professor Austin,” I say suddenly. “He helped Luna before. And just now, he said something about Luna trusting him, about some people never stopping trying to help even when it’s dangerous.”
“You think he knows about Selena?”
“I think he suspects something. And I think he might be willing to help us if we can convince him we’re serious.
” I push myself to my feet, legs still shaky but determined.
“We need evidence. We need to find proof of what Selena’s done, what she’s planning.
And we need to do it without her realizing we’re onto her. ”
Max stands too, and for a moment we just look at each other. A year ago, we were barely more than strangers—two damaged people using each other to survive. Now, he’s the only person in the world I trust completely, the only one who knows all my secrets and hasn’t run screaming.
“I love you,” he says suddenly.
“I know.” I manage a weak smile. “Even though I’m losing my mind and might have murdered someone and can’t remember what I had for breakfast.”
“You didn’t murder anyone. They made you a victim and tried to turn you into a perpetrator.” He kisses my forehead gently. “And for the record, you didn’t have breakfast. You said you weren’t hungry.”
Did I? I don’t remember that either. God, how much of today is missing from my memory?
The bell rings for third period, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. We should get to class. We should maintain the appearance of normal students attending normal classes at a normal university. But nothing about this is normal, and the pretense is exhausting.
“We find Luna and Erik,” Max decides. “We need to find a safe way to tell them everything. Then we start gathering evidence. Quietly. Carefully.” He looks around the corridor, suddenly paranoid.
“We should assume everything we do, everywhere we go, is being monitored. No sensitive conversations in our rooms, no planning where there could be cameras or microphones.”
“The cliffs,” I suggest. “Where Selena ‘saved’ us from Dominic. It’s isolated, and the ocean is loud enough to cover our voices. We can say we’re taking a walk, being romantic, whatever. She won’t suspect anything if we’re just a couple enjoying the view.”
He nods slowly. “Okay. Tonight after dinner. We’ll suggest a group walk, all four of us. Natural, friendly.”
Natural. Friendly. As if anything could be natural or friendly when we’re living in the belly of the beast.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s too dangerous. If Selena is watching us, she’ll think it’s suspicious.”
“You’re right.”
“It’s up to you and I to figure this out first,” I tell him. “Once we either know for sure or we find a perfect moment to tell Luna and Erik, then we do it.”
“Agreed.”
I think about Janet Wilson again, about how she must have felt in her final moments. Was she scared? Did she understand what was happening? Or was she drugged into compliance like I was, like we were meant to be, like countless others probably were?
A door opens down the corridor, and we both jump. It’s just another student, someone I don’t recognize, who gives us a curious look before hurrying past. My heart is hammering against my ribs.
“We should go,” Max says quietly. “Separately. You head to your next class, I’ll head to mine. We’ll meet at dinner like everything’s fine.”
“Max—”
“I know.” He touches my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “I’m scared too. But we’re going to get through this. We survived our families, we survived the trials, we’ll survive her too.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that love and determination and righteous anger will be enough to defeat someone as powerful and calculating as Selena Harpsons.
But I’ve learned the hard way that the good guys don’t always win, that justice is a luxury the powerful can afford to ignore, that sometimes monsters get to keep their masks and their kingdoms.
Still, what choice do we have but to try?
I nod, straightening my blazer, wiping my face. Belle Gallagher, perfect daughter, flawless facade. I can do this. I’ve been doing it my entire life.
“Tonight,” I confirm. “We begin gathering the evidence.”
He kisses me once more, quick and fierce, before walking away. I watch him go, memorizing the line of his shoulders, the way he moves, the reality of him. Because there’s a very real possibility that we’re not all making it off this island alive, and I need to remember every moment we have left.
Then I turn and walk toward my next class, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
My hands have stopped shaking. My mind is clearer now, focused on what needs to be done.
I’m terrified, yes, but I’m also angry. Furious, actually.
At Selena, at my parents, at every person who looked at children and saw tools instead of human beings.
They tried to break me. They tried to make me a monster. But I survived, and I’m done being anyone’s victim.
The Architect has no idea what’s coming for her.